New York City Detective Sam DeLuca, hurt both physically and emotionally when a case went south, has fled to Misty Bottoms, Georgia, for some R&R at the ramshackle house inherited from his aunt. He wants solitude; he wants to be left alone. His across-the-street neighbor, Cricket O’Malley, has returned to town to open The Enchanted Florist and work with the Magnolia Brides. Sam’s city; Cricket’s country. He’s a pessimist; she’s a card-carrying optimist. He’s a Yankee, and she’s Dixie-to-her-toes.

In this excerpt from Every Bride Has Her Day, Cricket and a very reluctant Sam have spent much of the day making his aunt’s house habitable. To thank Cricket, he’s offered to take her to dinner—on his Harley.

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Cricket decided she’d approach tonight as a reconnaissance mission. She and Sam had worked together much of the afternoon, but with them on separate floors most of the time, there’d been pathetically little chatter. He’d kept his radio on, too, which pretty much squelched any get-to-know-each-other talk. A deliberate move on his part because the man was not a talker.

That sweaty back, though, with those rippling muscles. His stubble-darkened jaw. The pain flickering in those black eyes. His comment about his mama’s cooking. She sighed. Yep, he definitely had some items on the plus side.

Reaching into the fridge, she found a stalk of celery and crunched on it. Lunch had been too many cobwebs and dirty windows ago. She needed fuel and hoped Sam wasn’t one of those guys who thought a woman should pick at her food. What was the sense in that? If you paid for it, why not eat it?

Exactly fifty-nine minutes after she’d left Sam’s, she heard the throaty thrum of the Harley as it started. Her stomach did a quick, nervous rumba. Ten seconds later he pulled into the drive behind her practical little red Chevy SUV.

One peek out the kitchen window and a kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in her belly. Hadn’t she just that morning sworn she’d never get on a motorcycle? She stared at the Harley as though approaching a fire-breathing dragon.

“Come on.” Sam tipped his head. “I’m starving. You do know how to get to Mama’s, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s a, um, pretty big motorcycle.”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand over the gas tank. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Then he glanced up and saw her round eyes, her pale face.

“You afraid of bikes?”

She chewed her lower lip. “I’ve never ridden one.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.” She studied the grass at her feet as though it held the answers to all the questions in the universe.

“So you’re a virgin.”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“You’re a virgin.” At her outraged expression, one side of his mouth lifted in what could have been a smile. “A motorcycle virgin.”

Her mouth opened and closed, and the laugh he’d been holding back escaped. “Honey, you’re the most transparent person I’ve ever met. Right now? You look as nervous as the perp in a lineup.”

He hopped off the bike and unsnapped an open-faced helmet from the back. Walking up to her, he placed it over her head and snapped the chin strap. “We don’t want you getting hurt, and we sure don’t want to break the law.”

She made a face. “It feels kind of claustrophobic.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Holding her hand, he led her to the bike. “I’ll steady the beast. Just throw one leg over and crawl on.”

She approached the Harley the way another woman might sneak up on a coiled rattler. “This is a death trap.”

“Not with me driving. I don’t take stupid chances.”

“Other drivers—”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promised. “You really are scared, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m cautious.”

“You’re afraid. Admit it. I figured you’d be game for almost anything.”

Her facial expression changed, and he fought back the threatened grin. Oh, he’d found the right button…and pushed it. He’d issued a challenge.

“Fine.” Her brow rose and she stared at him icily.

“Fine. One time. Come on, you can do this.”

She held onto the handlebars to support herself. “Whew, okay, I’ll admit it. I’m nervous.”

“Understood. The first time’s always the hardest.” His coal-black eyes met hers. “And the most memorable.”

Heat raced through her. Okay, now he had her heart racing and her breath ragged. He knew it, too. A cat playing with a mouse.

“Unless you’re planning to drive us to dinner, though, you’re going to want to slide back a little so I can hop on.”

“Oh!” She did, her hands gripping the sides of the seat.

He settled in front of her. “You’ll need to hold on to me.” He watched her in the rearview mirror.

When she put her hands on his shoulders, gripped till her knuckles turned white, he winced and she pulled away.

“I hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He moved her hands, one at a time, to his waist. “You’ll do better holding on here. You might even want to wrap those arms right around my midsection.”

“Are you joshin’ me?”

“Nope. I wouldn’t do that. Since this is your first motorcycle ride and all.”

She kept her hands right where they were—until he revved the bike’s engine. The second they moved, so did her arms. They came up to wrap around his neck in a near stranglehold.

He stopped the bike, braced his feet to steady them.

“A little lower. I have to breathe.”

“Lower? How much lower?” She put her hands on his biceps, wrapped her fingers partway around them. “Mmmm, nice. Strong.”

“Lower.” His voice sounded husky, even to himself. Now they played a more dangerous game, and they both knew it.

Okay, he enjoyed games. He zipped out of the driveway and down the road, grinning at her surprised squeal.

Cricket wrapped her arms around Sam’s midsection so tightly she wondered he could breathe. She leaned forward, practically melting into him. Despite the mind-numbing fear, she enjoyed the feel of him.

He slowed to idle down Frog Pond Road. “Which way?”

“Left. You’ll go about a mile, then turn right. The road follows the river. It’s actually a pretty ride.”

Without another word, Sam turned, and they were off.

For the first few minutes, Cricket didn’t move a muscle for fear she’d unbalance them. Then, the warm summer air blowing across her face, caressing her skin, she gave in to the beauty of the Low Country, of the evening, of Sam and her first motorcycle ride.

By the time they reached the restaurant, she was tempted to tell him to just keep driving.

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About Every Bride Has Her Day

Can love revive a wilting heart?

Cricket O’Malley can’t wait to plant roots back home in Georgia, where she’s returned to restore an abandoned flower shop to its former glory. The only blemish? Her neighbor’s house is even more neglected than her old flower shop, and its occupant seems as surly as he is darkly handsome.

Devastated body and soul after a tough case went south, New York City detective Sam DeLuca thought he’d have no trouble finding solitude in the quiet Georgia town of Misty Bottoms, but his bubbly neighbor seems determined to shine happiness into Sam’s life. Sam is equally determined to close himself off, but his heart says otherwise…

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The luxury of staying home when the weather turns nasty, of working in PJs and bare feet, and the fact that daydreaming is not only permissible but encouraged, are a few of the reasons middle school teacher Lynnette Austin gave up the classroom to write full-time. Lynnette grew up in Pennsylvania’s Alleghany Mountains, moved to Upstate New York, then to the Rockies in Wyoming. Presently she and her husband divide their time between Southwest Florida’s beaches and Georgia’s Blue Ridge Mountains. A finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart Contest, PASIC’s Book of Your Heart Contest, and Georgia Romance Writers’ Maggie Contest, she’s published five books asLynnette Hallberg. She’s currently writing as Lynnette Austin. Having grown up in a small town, that’s where her heart takes her—to those quirky small towns where everybody knows everybody…and all their business, for better or worse. Visit Lynnette at AuthorLynnetteAustin.com.